Strike Three
by 100TenMillion
Summary: Harold has to face a tough decision: Will he stay with LeShawna after she's hurt him, or will he dump her? A story with a very important message.


**Strike Three**

The Three Strike Rule; once a partner betrays or disappoints you for the third time, that relationship ends permanently. It's been criticized, praised, held as indisputable, disputed, defined and re-defined by several dating and relationship experts. Many swear by it while others consider it toxic. Harold himself never thought he'd need it.

What was Strike One? That was when LeShawna decided to abruptly end whatever relationship she and Harold would have had back in Wawanakwa. He sighed with bittersweet nostalgia; she was his curvy chocolate goddess. Booty as luscious as an apple, a Homeric bosom, kisses as sweet as the chocolate her skin took after, she was his Ten. No, she was his Twenty, his One Hundred.

His Million!

But she decided they were moving too fast. "Spur of the moment," she said. "Emotions running faster than we could think." He could accept that; both were only 16, still discovering themselves, sacrificing their ONLY summer as 16 year olds for a shot at fame on some TV show. Yeah, he could accept it.

He still pined for her, though. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of her. Not just her body, but her attitude and personality as well. It was the confidence in her strut, the strength of spirit evident in every word she spoke, the way her every movement made evident the strong willed woman she always was. It was the shine in her eyes whenever she spoke about her family, or how her voice could go from tough to sweet in a heartbeat.

Strike Two was much harder for him to get over. It was bad enough that she set him aside, brushed his feelings like they were nothing; that she was falling for Alejandro, that was something else altogether. He knew a slimeball when he saw it, and he had never seen a skeevier man than Alejandro. To see that Latin ass put the moves on HIS queen made his blood boil. But that was not the worst of it; the worst was seeing LeShawna fall for his superficial charms. The way she swooned over his Pick-Up Artist level flirtations, his admittedly handsome looks, or his swave accent.

It stung him harder than he cared to admit. He looked at that Latin beef cake, then he looked at himself. He knew he was outmatched, deep down. He knew Alejandro was slime, but he was the kind of smile girls DIG. When Alejandro showed his true colors, Harold held onto the hope that LeShawna would see that jackass for the slime he was. He breathed a sigh of relief the day she declared Harold to be one of "the good guys." He felt this was his shot. For all intents and purposes, it was.

But he never really forgot the sting. There was always that insecurity that, deep down, LeShawna had only "settled" for Harold, that if she could find a guy who was nice to her but had a body like Alejandro...

He'd often shake his head whenever his thoughts went in that direction. She'd never do that to him, he said to himself. She'd NEVER abandon him! He loved her, and she him! They were happy!

They were happy...

It happened one summer day. The two were out by the beach eating ice cream. LeShawna had this look to her, this wistful look Harold couldn't decode. Her curvy body was well complemented by a tankini; many boys and men were giving her lustful looks, some going so far as to wolf whistle. When they saw Harold, they'd chuckle to themselves. "What's a babe like her doing with THAT?"

She paid no attention to them; they were pigs, after all, no better than Alejandro. But there was ONE guy who was different. Good looking guy he was; a tall, African-Canadian boy from British Colombia with his ears pierced and a half-afro. His kind eyes were well complimented by his warm, bright smile. The moment she laid eyes on him, LeShawna started to hyperventilate.

"Harold, sweetie, mind getting me another ice cream?" She sweetly asked. Harold readily agreed, going over to the parlor. That was when one of the earlier assholes ran up to him.

"Hey, dweeb," said the jerk with the mohawk. "What'cha doin' with her? She way outta yer league."

"Listen, idiot," Harold replied. "She chose ME, OK? She's smart enough to go for the guy who has more to offer than just looks!"

"Oh yeah?" Said the punk with the dragon tattoo. "What if we gave ya a black eye? What'd she think of her stud then?"

"What would she think of a guy who's threatened by a skinny nerd?" Harold said with a smirk. "Cuz that's what this is about; you're jealous a girl like HER is with ME instead of YOU! She knows where the Gold is; she'd never settle for wood!"

"Ya got that right," said the mohawk punk with a smirk as he points to LeShawna making googly eyes at the young man she saw earlier. The two were talking, clearly enraptured by each other.

"That's nothing," said Harold, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he made his way towards his girlfriend and her new acquaintance. "Sweetie? I got that ice cream."

"Oh!" LeShawna's eyes widened as she finally noticed Harold. "Uh, Peter? This is Harold, my...uh... boyfriend..."

LeShawna sounded embarrassed, almost ashamed. Harold noticed, but paid it no heed.

"Oh!" Said Peter, a bit disappointed, but still smiling. "Well, Harold, it's good to meet you! I was just talking to your...girlfriend...about this beach in Alberta..."

"Sure," Harold said with little interest, giving LeShawna her ice cream. He saw the two punks were giving him a smug leer. Peter saw the two and glared at them, causing them to leave. "Idiots."

"They sure are," said Peter. "Don't let'em get to ya, K?"

And so it was. Harold ignored a LOT of warning signs from that day onward. He ignored LeShawna adding Peter on Facebook because Peter also friended him. He ignored the hours LeShawna would spend chatting with Peter online. He ignored the giggles she made in her sleep. Hell, he even ignored the sinking feeling her felt the day she announced she was hitting that beach in Alberta with LeShaniqua.

There was one thing he knew he could never ignore, or forget. It was one late August evening. LeShawna was due to return from Alberta in two days. She called him that night. It was the worst phone call of his life.

"Harold, sweetie?" LeShawna's voice sounded somewhat unsure. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Sure," Harold gulped. He didn't want to think about where this was going.

"Well, me and my cuz are just having fun here at the beach, but," LeShawna hesitated. "Peter's here too."

"Okay?" Harold began to breathe heavily. His heart was racing.

"And, uh," LeShawna gulped. "Things between him and me? They're getting heated, and I...need to do him."

"What?" Harold could barely gasp out that word.

"I need to sleep with him, Harold," LeShawna said on the other side of the line. "It's...I can't handle it anymore. Please? Harold, it's only a one time thing, OK? Then I'll unfriend him and block him on everything! Ok? Sweetie?"

But Harold never replied. His eyes were burning with tears, his throat was tight, his chest felt like it was crushed by an elephant on fire.

When she came back, he noticed her smile was gone.

"Did you sleep with him?" Harold asked her, tears in his eyes.

"If I said 'no,' would that make you happy?" LeShawna asked, her eyes equally moist with tears.

"Would it be the truth?" Harold asked, his teeth bared but his eyes cascading. LeShawna bit her lip, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. "Did you sleep with him before or after you called me?"

"I..." LeShawna sobbed. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No," Harold responded. "You just didn't care if you did. You NEVER cared if you did!"

And that was Strike Three. Harold broke up with LeShawna then and there. Harold shared his story on a message board, anonymously of course. Many guys made fun of him for what happened; some called him a cuckold. Many girls told him he was a pig, that he should have accepted her apology, that it was a one time thing and girls are ALWAYS expected to forgive their men for doing the exact same thing.

If there's one thing I think is indisputable it's that there needs to be a limit to the humiliation we're willing to tolerate from our lovers. The Three Strike Rule is a basis for that limit; some prefer One Strike, others go with Ten Strikes. Some prefer No Strikes; if its love, it'll find a way. But if there's one truth to love, it's that someone who loves you takes pains to avoid disappointing and betraying you.

Harold knew he had no choice but to break up with her. If she didn't sleep with him, there's still the fact that she needed his disapproval to not go through with it. If she DID sleep with him AFTER she called him, it meant his disapproval was merely a formality at that point. If she slept with him BEFORE calling, the call itself would have been a request for retroactive permission, a way to wash away the guilt. Because if LeShawna DID love Harold, the idea of sleeping with another guy while being in a relationship with the former would NEVER have been given serious thought.

It was tough on him. It took him a whole year to get over her. He deleted and blocked her on Facebook, along with Peter. On the night of his 21st birthday, a year after that phone call, he was at a local bar drinking a cocktail. He saw Katie and Sadie over at another table; he figured he'd say hi.

"Hey girls," Harold said to them, smiling. Katie and Sadie looked up from their phones and frowned, their eyes saddening.

"Hey, Harold," Katie said. "We were looking at LeShawna's..."

"...wedding pictures," Sadie said in a whisper.

"Oh," Harold said, his face falling a bit. "Good for her. Anyway, sorry to interrupt, it was nice to see you!"

Harold went back up to his table, staring at his drink. He sighed, but he felt...light. He couldn't describe it, but the closest he would be able to was...

"Harold?" Sadie said as she sat across from him. "Can we talk?"

"Sure,"

"Listen, I know," Sadie said. "You and LeShawna, well..."

"That was the past," Harold said. "I'm over her, and I'm happy she found someone."

"Yeah," Sadie said, smiling sweetly at him. "You gonna be OK?"

"It's taken me a while," Harold said with a smile. "But I'll be OK. Got the future to look forward to."

"That's good," Sadie said with a genuine smile. She waved at Katie, a wave that wordlessly said "Leave without me."

It's tough, but you gotta know your limit. You need to respect yourself enough to say "that's all I can stand, I can stand no more!" And when that limit is reached, you need to drop your partner like a hot potato. Two reasons why you'll thank yourself. First, you're freeing yourself up from someone who's hurt you too often. Second...

"I do," Harold said on his wedding day, three years after THAT call. He kissed his new wife, Sadie, as their friends and family cheered.

...you'll open yourself up to finding someone better. And hey, it doesn't have to be Three Strikes; that's just a suggestion!

Peace!


End file.
